Ukulele sonnet

If I knew how to play my own guitar
I sometimes think that then I’d have arrived
I’d play Stones, Ramones, and Sabbath… be a star!
Be metal-er than anyone alive
These fond delusions last about as long
Well, to be honest, long as it usually takes
To butcher,mutilate one of my songs
I clutch the too-big frets until it aches
Pitifully I flail and quickly tire
Return the beast to dusty hibernation
Were I Jimi I’d just set the thing on fire
I lack such pure demonic inspiration
But I’m no Hendrix, nor was meant to be…My ukulele’s good enough for me!

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous— Almost, at times, the Fool.-T.S. Eliot